High Score
by RatherBeAWriter
Summary: She's been missing for two days and they've been fearing the worst. It looks like the Special Victims Unit's ordeal is over when Olivia turns up for work like nothing has happened. But some wounds take longer to heal than physical injuries. And there are plenty more pawns in New York City.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: After a very long break from writing any fanfic I have decided to have a go at something new. I have also finally learned how to be patient and not start posting a story until I have the majority of it written so updates should be regular!**

**Disclaimer: I of course own nothing and am just borrowing the SVU world and characters because 13 seasons of Olivia and Elliot being dysfunctional partners wasn't enough. **

**Chapter 1**

"Watch where you're going!" the cyclist yelled, swerving further into the road to avoid the woman who had stepped off the kerb without a glance in either direction.

Olivia's head snapped up, startled and ready to shout back in retaliation until she realised it was completely her fault.

It was a bitterly cold morning and, mid-way through an abduction case and going on very little sleep, she was feeling less than happy to be on her way to the precinct before it was even light outside. Her thoughts were far from the road in front of her.

As she was walked the last couple of blocks, trying to clear her hazy mind with some air, the beginnings of a headache caused her to sigh. So far, their investigations were supporting the theory that the kid had been taken by his estranged father. His parents' separation and the ensuing custody battle had been acrimonious but they had no reason to suspect the child was in any imminent danger. Regardless, they never took chances with children and the hours they had been working over the past few days were as long as if a life had been in imminent risk. It was starting to take its toll.

With a yawn, she entered the familiar glass doors and found herself rubbing sleep from her bleary eyes. She wished she had picked up a coffee on her way in so that the caffeine would already be hitting her system. Her brain seemed to be lagging behind her body. On autopilot, she continued up to the squad room and threw her purse onto her desk.

"Please tell me someone's filled the coffee pot," she mumbled, by way of greeting to her colleagues. "I'm running on empty."

Even in her sleep deprived state, she was aware of the stunned silence which met her.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a frown, turning to where Elliot, Fin and Munch all stared back. She had rarely seen the men so quiet. It was as though someone had hit pause on the normal hustle and bustle of the room.

"Liv, are you okay?" Elliot asked.

"I'm fine," she responded, her eyes narrowing with confusion.

"Where have you been?" her partner continued, appearing equally puzzled, but also oddly concerned.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was still well before 8am and finding no explanation for her colleagues' strange behaviour.

"Home," she answered. "Resting like the Captain ordered." Her fingers found their way to the bridge of her nose as she tried to soothe the pounding sensation in her head. "Have we got something?" she asked. Cragen had sent them all home to stop them burning out. Surely Elliot would have given her the head's up if he'd returned to the precinct through the night?

"For two days?" Elliot questioned, ignoring her query about the case.

"What?"

She scanned the faces of the others for some confirmation that he was winding her up, though she knew that his tone was far too serious for a prank.

With a deep breath she tried to refocus. She had said goodnight to them less than six hours earlier, before passing out on her couch surrounded by papers on the Martinez family. Hours had passed; not days. A dizzying heat flooded her body as she suddenly wondered what she had done with the file. It hadn't been in her hand when she had made her way up to the squad room. Surely she hadn't left it on the subway? Come to think of it, she couldn't remember catching the subway today. Or driving. How was that possible?

Her temperature seemed to increase further as she struggled to remember when she had last had the file in her hands and what she had been doing. Her memory of what she had last read was hazy at best, even taking into account her lack of sleep.

Olivia hadn't even noticed she had lost her balance until she felt Elliot's arms catch and steady her.

"Sit down," he urged, easing her into her chair. She obeyed, more as a result of the urgency in his voice than from any understanding of what was happening. Before she'd had a chance to question him his hands were in her hair, gently brushing over the side of her head until she felt a sting and could finally identify the root of the throbbing pain. "Get Cragen and call a bus," Elliot ordered, moving his hands to her shoulders as he crouched in front of her, his eyes scanning the rest of her body.

"El, what's going on?" she mumbled, the previous sense of panic intensifying as her gaze drifted beyond him to where her photo took centre stage on their whiteboard.

"Everything's okay," he assured her, with a look that did anything but give her the comfort his words tried to promised. "You're back."

* * *

In the ten minutes which followed, Olivia was moved from the open bull pen to the relative privacy of Cragen's office. Her superior and partner hovered anxiously by the door as she perched on the edge of a chair, trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

"Thanks," she half-smiled, as Fin appeared with a blanket. She was clammy, but shaking, and glad of the extra layer.

"You need anything else?" he asked, helping her to drape it around her shoulders.

"Could I get some water?" she replied, having become aware of her dry mouth as she tried to answer their questions. Her brain remained a step behind on interpreting each sensation her body experienced.

Fin hesitated and exchanged a glance with the other men. She had been missing for almost 48 hours with no recollection of what had happened to her, and bruising patterns suggestive of being restrained. They knew what would have to be done at the hospital.

"Liv, do you think you can hold on until we get you checked over?" Cragen asked. Right now she wasn't thinking like a cop, and the preservation of evidence was the last thing on her mind, but after spending two days imagining what could have been happening to his detective, he couldn't get it out of his. He wanted to make her feel better but he also wanted to catch whoever was responsible and find out what they had done.

"Captain, I wasn't raped," she insisted, catching his meaning quicker than she had processed anything else. She wasn't sure of much but she would have known. She looked at her bruised wrists, circling them and feeling the general ache of her body sharpen in the joints. It was an easy assumption for someone who worked in sex crimes to make but she was certain she would have known. "I really need something to drink." Even her own voice sounded distant to her as she spoke. Her head bobbed slightly as she struggled to stay alert.

"We don't know what happened to you and it's looking like we'll need all the evidence we can get to figure it out," Cragen reasoned, not missing a single disoriented movement, despite Olivia's best efforts to keep her composure.

"Come on," she responded with more force. "I'm fine - I just need some water." She coughed, involuntarily emphasising her point.

"We can take an oral swab before she goes to the hospital," Fin suggested as a compromise, unwilling to contribute to her discomfort for the purpose of obtaining evidence they didn't even know existed. It wasn't following protocol to the letter but it wasn't going to cause any harm. "We'd do that for any other vic if we had to."

The word was out of his mouth before he thought but she was so relieved at having someone on side that she didn't even notice it. She agreed to let them go ahead, even if she still protested the necessity. She knew she didn't really have much choice.

Elliot was gentle as he swabbed the inside of her mouth, his focus on completing the task before she showed any sign of distress and before his hand started to shake and risked giving away his own feelings about the situation. He had been quick to volunteer, finding that he was suddenly reluctant for anyone else to touch her. He'd almost startled the others when he'd spoken up after standing in silence since he had helped her into the Captain's office.

She thanked him with the slightest hint of a nod as he sealed the swab into an evidence bag. Fin already had a cup of water to hand and she accepted it gratefully, gulping it down with relief until the nausea of the cold liquid hitting her empty stomach forced her to stop.

"You okay?" Elliot asked, noticing the little colour drain from her face.

She nodded, taking shallow breaths to avoid the further embarrassment of throwing up on the floor of her captain's office.

"I'm good," she insisted, unconvincingly.

"The bus is on its way," he reminded her, his eyes drawn again to the bloody, matted hair to the right side of her head.

"I know," she told him, taking her turn to offer reassurance as the cracks appeared in his routine. "I'll be fine."

* * *

"All right, Detective, let's get you off to the hospital," the paramedic announced, in a tone that seemed far too cheerful to Olivia. There was a fine line between being reassuring and being irritating and the medic had crossed it by a mile. To add to the detectives annoyance, the brief assessment of her injuries, which seemed to involve a disproportionate amount of prodding at her head wound, didn't really shine any light on what had happened. They were eager for her to be seen by a doctor because of the head injury and memory loss but they couldn't offer much more, other than to remark that her pulse was faster than normal - an observation of which Olivia had been very much aware from the restless thudding of her heart since she had arrived in the squad room.

The younger of the two medics made to help Olivia into the waiting wheelchair but she brushed away her arm with more strength than anyone had expected. As time went on she was becoming more aware of her situation and of how she was being perceived by others.

"I can walk," she insisted, not wanting to be carted through the precinct like an invalid. There had been enough people staring when she had arrived and walked straight into the investigation into her own disappearance. She was already craving the privacy that she knew was hours away at best.

The paramedic was ready to argue but Elliot's silent shake of the head told her not to bother, and Olivia got to her feet, leaning on the back of the chair for support. She wasn't entirely convinced that she could walk, not having moved without assistance since Elliot had caught her almost an hour ago, but she wasn't willing to admit it when her colleagues were already looking so worried.

She wanted to be done with all of this and to be home, where she might be able to slow her surroundings to the point of being able to process what was going on.

"I've got you," her partner whispered, sliding seamlessly into place beside her and taking hold of her arm to replace the support of the chair. "You didn't think I'd let you ride alone?" he added, as she turned towards him, ready to push him away as she had the paramedic. He shot her a warning look which told her not to protest.

"Thank you," she relented with the closest expression to a smile she could muster up. She supposed having him by her side was better than collapsing to the ground. Even if it meant leaning on him in all senses of the phrase.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" Cragen muttered, turning to his remaining two detectives. His anger wasn't directed at anyone in the room but it caused both Fin and Munch to spring into action.

"We'll haul Martinez' ass back in," Fin proposed. They had found the boy they had been searching for on the first day of Olivia's disappearance, when most of the squad were still focusing on the job in hand and only Elliot had been tasked with locating the missing detective. As they had suspected, his father had been involved and when questioned had been quick to threaten the "bitch who'd been sticking her nose in his business". Olivia had spoken to his employer the previous day and it hadn't taken long for their questioning to turn towards whether Mr Martinez had also had a role to play in her disappearance.

Cragen shook his head.

"He's not our man," he responded. "We need to look at alternative theories."

Martinez wasn't a plausible suspect. Fin was just angry and searching for someone to blame. They'd already questioned the man and while he'd been happy to make threats against NYPD, Cragen was fairly certain he wasn't the type to follow through.

"Get all the CCTV that you can of Olivia from this morning. Start outside and trace her back. She had to come from somewhere."

The benefit of being in such a busy city was that it was almost impossible not to be caught on camera at some point. Locating Olivia's route to the precinct would give them somewhere to start.

With Fin and Munch getting the search underway, Cragen returned to his office, closing the door and taking a moment for himself before he figured out what else required to be done. He dropped heavily into his chair, letting out a sigh of both relief and tension. His desk was littered with the debris of the past two days. Throughout the time his detective had been missing he had stayed at the precinct with the rest of the squad, taking short breaks to lie down in the cribs and eating the little food he could force down at his desk. The question of pulling rank and going home hadn't even crossed his mind. He'd only left twice - once to pursue a lead and the second time to attend a meeting. It had been a long time since he'd wished that hard for there to be a bottle of scotch in his bottom drawer and it would have been the worst possible time to slip.

His phone rang - the commissioner looking for an update. In all the commotion he hadn't yet let anyone outside of the squad room know that she had been found. No doubt his superiors would want all the detail quicker than it was available and there would be press to manage too. Despite their best efforts to keep any information released under control, the disappearance of a sex crimes detective had got the interest of more than a few journalists.

Elliot had Olivia, Fin and Munch had the investigation, he'd deal with everything else.

And then he would go to another meeting, just to see him through until normality returned.

* * *

"Last stick - I promise," the doctor assured Olivia as she finally succeeded in inserting an IV. Olivia flinched slightly but didn't otherwise react. She felt like a pin cushion already and one more needle made no difference. "This will get your electrolytes back to normal . You're dehydrated and your blood sugar is low - that'll be contributing to the dazed feeling."

Dazed didn't begin to cover it. It was now almost three hours since she stepped into the squad room and still nothing felt entirely real. She had been poked and prodded in every possible way. Blood tests. A CT scan. Photographed from every angle. A full rape kit. She was almost glad that she'd felt out of body for the whole experience.

"I'll be back to check on you in a while," the doctor smiled, leaving her patient with a reassuring pat on the arm. Olivia smiled back weakly as she had been doing in response to every sympathetic glance since she arrived at the hospital.

"How are you holding up?" Elliot asked, stepping forward from where he had been keeping watch in the corner, as soon as the doctor left the room.

She shrugged, unsure of the appropriate response.

"I want to know what happened to me," she said after a long pause. To her relief, the examinations carried out had shown no indication of sexual assault, and, other than the gash on her head and bruising around her wrists and ankles, there was no physical injury.

"You will," Elliot assured her. "You'll remember."

"What if I don't?"

"You will. We'll go over it again." He pulled up a chair, the metal legs scraping across the linoleum, and sat down beside the bed. Memory was a funny thing and they both knew that it could take time for victims to remember the details of an attack, but neither of them was good at waiting for answers.

Olivia sighed and leaned back into the pillows behind her. If it was possible for anyone to be more frustrated at her amnesia than she was then it was her partner. He couldn't seem to accept that she had nowhere to start. Until now there had always been a doctor or nurse interrupting his questioning to take her vitals or draw more blood and she found herself missing that buffer.

"Not now; I'm tired," she responded, unwilling to go back over the things she couldn't remember yet again.

"Later then," he agreed. "It'll be easier after some rest."

Olivia sighed again, unconvinced, but closed her eyes to avoid prolonging the conversation. She was grateful to have had Elliot with her but his constant need for answers was getting too much. She already felt like she was in a goldfish bowl and didn't need the additional intrusion. After several minutes of trying or feigning sleep - she was unsure which - she became aware that he hadn't moved.

"I'm trying to sleep," she mumbled.

"Then stop talking," he retorted.

She opened her eyes and glanced over to where he watched her over the top of a newspaper he had borrowed from the nurses when he had been herded out of the examination room in the ER.

"Aren't you going to leave?" she asked. Her tone was more good humoured as she let herself remember that he wasn't just a detective prying into her life. This was Elliot and he was probably the only reason she felt safe enough to close her eyes at all.

He grinned back at her, with the same look he'd given her as he helped her out to the ambulance earlier in the day, crossing his legs into a more comfortable position.

"Not a chance."

As long as he was quiet then he wasn't doing any harm.

She lay back against the pillows, allowing her eyes to close again. Her mind was racing but her body was so heavy and it wasn't long before she felt the sounds of the hospital swim and fade. Elliot was probably right - some sleep would do her good.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much for checking this story out. It's given me a real boost to see people have been reading it. **

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"I thought you were staying with Liv," Cragen remarked with surprise, when Elliot returned to the precinct. It was the middle of the afternoon and he hadn't expected to see the detective until they knew more on his partner's condition.

"She's sleeping," Elliot responded shortly, throwing himself heavily into his chair and making no eye contact with his boss.

"So you left her?" the Captain persisted, still surprised by the younger man's return.

"She's fine," the detective replied, keeping his attention on his computer screen. Cragen watched him carefully for a moment, frowning to begin with, until his lips cracked into a smile of realisation.

"She threw you out, didn't she?"

Elliot glanced up and gave a short nod, sighing as he was forced to admit the reason for his early return and feeling a hint of colour flush over his cheeks. Olivia had slept on and off for a while, until she had been woken by an orderly bringing round trays of lunch for the patients. She had been cranky when she woke and everything he'd said or done had worsened her mood. His suggestion that she might remember more if she tried to relax hadn't gone down well.

"She's doing much better," he confirmed to their captain, letting him infer what might have happened in the hospital room.

Cragen nodded, somewhat relieved to hear that Olivia had some fight back. As close as his detectives were, it wasn't like her to be clinging to Elliot as she had been earlier in the day. All the same, he didn't like the idea of her being alone.

"Fin," he called to the other detective, who had been pretending not to smirk at the exchange.

"Captain," he responded.

"Head over to the hospital in case Olivia changes her mind on having company," he instructed.

Fin nodded, closing over the papers on his desk, and immediately doing as he had been told, headed for the door. Cragen turned his attention back to Elliot.

"They found a few slivers of glass in the cut on her head," the detective informed his Captain, before the older man could point the conversation in a more personal direction. "If she was blitz attacked with a bottle then that would explain how someone managed to grab her."

"Call CSU and check if they've found anything that could have been used as a weapon near her apartment," the Captain responded. He didn't have high hopes that the same person who had managed to hold a detective captive for two days would have been careless enough to leave such obvious evidence at the scene, but they had to try something.

* * *

It was getting dark again by the time Olivia was released from the hospital. They were still waiting for her tox screen results but her vitals were now within the normal range and, lead by lead, she had been disconnected from the various machines which had been monitoring her.

"Ready?" Fin asked, as she pulled at the hospital bracelet, impatient to get it off.

After Elliot's failed attempt at jogging Olivia's memory, and their exchange of a few tense words when she told him she'd had enough, she had been unable to settle properly again. When Fin had appeared, he'd had the sense not to push her too far and they had passed the afternoon playing with a deck of cards which he had purchased from the gift shop. It wasn't an activity in which either of them would normally have found much enjoyment but it stopped the silence becoming too uncomfortable.

"I've been ready for hours," she replied, grumpily.

Fin smiled, glad to see the improvement in his colleague since the morning. Her doctor had been right that she would feel better after the IV fluids had done their job. Since the IV finished, it had been difficult to convince Olivia to stay for further observation. With a clearer head all she wanted was to get cleaned up in her own bathroom and join the others in finding out what had happened to her.

The nurse returned with the paperwork to be signed and to cut off the wristband before Olivia hurt herself trying to break the tough plastic.

"You're good to go," she announced as Olivia handed back the pen. "Just remember to take it easy for a couple of days and head straight back if you have any sign of the concussion worsening."

"Thanks," Olivia smiled, standing up and reaching for the bag containing the toiletries and spare clothes, which had been grabbed hastily from her apartment when they were still unsure of whether she would be admitted for longer.

"I've got it, girl" Fin insisted, grabbing the bag before she had the chance to protest. He'd been treading carefully to avoid the same fate as Elliot, but he was still going to look after her and he still had his reputation as a gentleman to protect.

She didn't argue and instead headed straight for the door with a shake of her head and just the hint of a smile. She was too relieved that CSU had finished with her apartment and that she was on her way out to fight him. Fin laughed for the first time all day at her determination to escape.

"Please, just get me home," she called back to the chuckling detective.

* * *

It wasn't that they didn't trust the uniformed officers stationed outside of Olivia's apartment. It was more that they wanted to have eyes on her themselves. For almost 48 hours they had been imagining the worst. For someone to disappear, with no obvious leads, suspects or ransom demands, the statistics had not been good for a safe return with little harm.

Elliot and Munch arrived at the apartment soon after Cragen had sent them home for the evening. Fin hadn't left since he had driven her back from the hospital.

"She's taking a shower," he advised the newcomers as he let them in. "Then we're ordering dinner whether she wants it or not," he added. Olivia had been unusually quiet since leaving the hospital but she had spoken up to decline all of Fin's culinary offerings.

"She didn't eat much at the hospital," Elliot frowned, recalling that she had picked at the fruit cup before pushing the tray away at lunchtime.

"She's an adult," Munch reminded them. "If she doesn't want to eat today then she doesn't have to."

From behind the closed bathroom door Olivia could jut about make out the end of the conversation. She was standing in front of the mirror, wrapped in a towel and examining her reflection. Her hair felt disgusting, despite the nurses' best efforts to clean out the blood before they closed the cut on her head. It would be a good few days before she could wash it properly and in the meantime she had only been able to tidy its appearance.

Since returning home, the hospital had called with the initial results from her tox screen. The high levels of benzodiazapines in her blood, particularly when combined with her head injury, finally gave an explanation for her memory problems but still no suggestion as to what had filled the past two days.

"How's she doing?" Elliot's voice asked and she could only guess Fin's silent response.

Her colleagues meant well and she did appreciate them being here. She was shaken up from the day and felt safer knowing that she wasn't on her own. But the questions and pity were two things she couldn't face and made her wonder if she would in fact be better alone.

Resting on the edge of the bathtub, she took a moment to herself before getting dressed and heading outside. Victim was not a role she could play particularly well but a knock on the door soon reminded her that for the time being that was exactly how she would be seen.

"Liv, you okay in there?" Fin called, concerned that she was taking so long.

"Just a minute," she responded as she pulled on the sweats she had grabbed on her way to the shower.

She rubbed her eyes, took a deep breath and stepped out into the bedroom. At least they'd given her enough space as to wait in the living area rather than lingering directly outside her door.

"Hey," she greeted them, launching straight into business. "Any new leads?"

Elliot stared back at her with a frown, seeing through her facade as easily as he would see through the twins' insistence that they didn't have any homework.

"We tracked you four blocks from the precinct on CCTV but lost you there," Munch responded, without the hesitation of the others. "Surprisingly, there are some corners of the city where Big Brother isn't watching you."

At that moment she could not have been more grateful for him taking charge and treating her like herself instead of tiptoeing around her. She sat down, feeling calmer than she had expected.

"What was I doing?" she asked.

"You looked a bit out of it but you were heading to the precinct."

"And what about the people around me on the street. Was there anyone out of place?" Her mind was racing through all of the questions which might give her an answer.

Elliot shook his head, reluctantly providing her with more of the information she needed to get involved.

"We couldn't spot anyone that seemed to be with you or watching you," he explained.

Olivia felt her careful expression falter. They were definitely short on leads.

"So what now?" she asked, forcing herself to concentrate on what could be done.

"Your clothes are at the lab and so is the glass the doctor removed from your head," Elliot told her. "They're going to call me as soon as they have anything."

Olivia nodded, pausing as she thought of the techs combing over every inch of her sweater and boots for transfer evidence. She wondered if she'd ever get them back or if they'd end up in storage with other cold cases for years to come.

"So we're waiting," she stated, more for herself than the others. "Does anyone want coffee?" She didn't, but it was a reflex to keep busy and get herself out of the spotlight.

"We were going to order food. Chinese okay for you?" Fin asked, before she was even fully on her feet to head over to the kitchen.

She lowered herself back down and nodded. Her stomach felt like it was turned inside out and food was the last thing she wanted but she knew she needed to keep up her strength.

"Sure. That sounds good."

* * *

As the night grew later, Olivia felt her eyes grow heavier. They were still in her apartment with no one wanting to leave and with Olivia eager that she be with them should any evidence come to light.

"Here, drink this," Elliot told her, passing her a glass of water as he rejoined the group after putting the leftover takeout in the fridge. She sat up a little straighter and accepted the glass. It hadn't taken her long to realise that if she ate and drank enough to satisfy Elliot then his scowl would lessen just enough that he looked like he might smile again at some point that year. During their time together at the hospital Fin had filled her in on just how worried her partner had been while she was missing and, feeling slightly apologetic for getting so annoyed earlier in the day, she was making an effort to do what she could to reassure him. Their minor falling out hadn't been spoken of.

"Mine's a scotch on the rocks," Munch told Elliot, as the detective took up his position next to his partner without offering a drink to anyone else.

Olivia stifled a yawn as she laughed. It had been a long day and it was hard to believe that it had only been that morning that she had found her way to the precinct.

"We can get out of your hair if you want to get some rest," Fin suggested. He knew that at least one of them would stay the night but could see that she might want some space.

"No, I'm fine," she insisted, consciously forcing her eyelids to stay apart for longer than a split second. It was surely only a matter of time before the lab called one of them with the results from her clothes.

They got back to their mindless discussion of the previous week's football games but Olivia found herself drifting from the conversation and falling more silent with each passing minute. The hospital might have decided she was fit to go home but she was still battling the effects of the drugs and the concussion. Before she was even aware she had nodded off, she felt Elliot's hand shake her leg gently, waking her from her restless sleep.

"Liv, come on, you should get to bed," he pressed. He'd let her be to begin with but as she started to mumble and thrash around he decided it was time that she settled down somewhere more comfortable and private.

The others had already collected their coats and prepared to leave. As Elliot's attention had also left the conversation and focused itself on Olivia they had taken the hint that it was time to go. She opened her eyes to see that the two men were on their way out.

"Night, Liv," Fin smiled. "Take it easy."

She returned a sleepy smile and nodded in their direction. The sense of disorientation told her she had been out for longer than she thought. As her colleagues showed themselves out, she heaved herself to her feet and stretched. Her balance was still off and there was a dull ache behind her eyes now that the painkillers she had been given at the hospital had worn off completely.

"You can get home too," she told Elliot. "Kathy and the kids will be wondering where you are."

"They know where I am," he replied. His commitment to the job may have caused tension with his wife in the past but during the time Olivia had been missing she had really come through for him and the rest of the team. She'd brought food and offered much needed words of reassurance when his head was going to the darkest possible places. Kathy would have been more surprised if he'd returned home tonight than if he stayed with Olivia. "Go to bed. I'll be here if you need me."

He sat back down on the couch, giving her a bit of breathing space but making it clear, once again, that he had no intention of leaving her alone. Their relationship was a strange dance at the best of times but today, the constant flitting between wanting to be together and wanting to be apart had reached a new level.

"There are extra blankets..." she started, only to be cut off.

"... in the chest," he completed. "I know." It wasn't the first time he had slept on her couch.

"And you'll wake me..."

"... if I hear anything from the lab. Go to bed, Olivia."

She nodded, trusting that he would stay good to his word and hoping that when she was next woken it would be with a further lead as to what had happened.

"Goodnight, El."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks again for reading and for your reviews, follows and favs. Hope you enjoy the next chapter. **

**Chapter 3**

Out of the two detectives, it was Elliot who slept worse. He was listening out for any of the noises he didn't want to hear from the moment she closed her bedroom door until the first rays of light crept round the curtains. The night passed without event - no sounds of an intruder or of distress from Olivia - but the dark circles under his eyes told a different story.

Olivia's sleep was a little more peaceful, though as she awoke with a sick, knotted feeling in her stomach she knew that it had only been exhaustion which had given her a good night's rest. From the moment she was conscious of her surroundings she felt jumpy and hypervigilent. The flickerings of panic warned her that whatever she had been through was not yet over. She needed answers if she was going to be able to process it all.

Elliot was still on the couch, with a wrinkled blanket draped loosely over his legs, when she came out of the bedroom for a glass of water.

"Morning," she greeted him. "Do you want something to eat?" It was easier to focus on what she could do rather than the problems she couldn't solve.

He tossed the blanket to the side and got up to help her in the kitchen. It may have been his wishful thinking but he was sure she looked brighter than the previous evening. She didn't have the same impression of him.

"You look like crap," she added, as he got close enough for her to see the effect of his three sleepless days and nights. She threw a couple of pills into her mouth and downed them with a swig of water.

"Headache?" he asked, clocking the Advil bottle on the counter.

She nodded.

"The doctor said it might stick around for a while."

He grimaced, knowing that kind of pain all too well.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked her, hoping that the answer was yes.

"Fine," she replied, not bothering to ask him the same question as she could see the answer for herself.

"Is anything coming back to you yet?"

She shook her head, concentrating on finding something for breakfast. She'd hoped that she would have at least the hint of a memory by now but she still couldn't recall anything before her walk to the precinct. Her doctor had been very noncommittal about whether she was likely to remember any details but she wasn't willing to accept that she might not.

Olivia had just started making coffee when Elliot's phone rang. To her annoyance he he walked away rather than taking the call within earshot.

"What have they got?" she asked, impatiently when he finally hung up and returned.

"They've got some trace from your clothes but no match. There were fingerprints on your boots and hairs on your sweater but whoever it is isn't in the system," he replied.

She sighed. There was no way that a first time offender could have abducted her and held her for two days. How was it possible that their DNA and prints weren't on file from a previous crime?

"They're going to extend the DNA search for familial matches but they might not get anything," he warned.

She nodded, pouring coffee into two mugs and trying to remind herself that the investigation was still at an early stage. She quickly realised that she wasn't going to be able to stay that detached or to maintain the calm attitude she had been perfecting the night before.

"And then what?" she blurted out, not even trying to hide the distress in her voice. The painkillers hadn't kicked in as quickly as she'd hoped and she was too irritable to be patient. "What do we do then? We've got no witnesses, the physical evidence is getting us nowhere, I have no memory." She leaned on the counter, groaning as if to emphasise her exasperation.

"We'll find a way to get him," Elliot insisted. "You don't have to have all the answers."

"I don't have any of the answers," she muttered impatiently.

"Liv," he tried to reason, without having much more to add to assist in making her feel better. He was trying to be the optimistic one but it didn't suit him and he didn't believe it.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announced, opting to stew on her own rather than in front of her partner. He didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of any more of her frustration and it wasn't fair to direct it his way just because he was there.

As the bathroom door slammed and the sound of running water drowned out the quiet in the apartment, Elliot stirred milk into his mug with a sigh. His relief that Olivia was safe had kept him going so far but, if the dead ends kept coming, he wasn't sure how much longer it would sustain him.

* * *

The mood in the squad room wasn't much better than that in Olivia's apartment. Cragen was shut away in his office, updating the commissioner on their lack of progress. Fin and Munch had recommenced their search through CCTV footage, starting a few streets away from where Olivia's trail had grown cold.

"You drank my coffee," Munch accused his partner, returning to his desk with another stack of discs and finding that he was unable to locate his mug.

"What would I want with your coffee?" Fin responded, lifting his own cup to evidence that Munch's theory made no sense. "You probably finished it already."

Unconvinced, the older man started to move around files and boxes on both of their desks, muttering that it had to be somewhere.

"Hey!" Fin exclaimed, as all he succeeded in achieving was to send a pile of the discs they had already viewed across the floor.

"Is everything okay?" Cragen asked, choosing the same moment to leave his office and check in with the team. By now, Munch was crouched down clearing up the mess while Fin continued to scowl.

"Fine, Captain," Fin responded. "Munch has just had too much coffee."

Cragen considered asking more but let it go in favour of dealing with the real issue at hand.

"Have we got any familial matches?" he questioned, hoping for more positive news than when they'd lucked out on the fingerprints.

"Still waiting to hear from the lab," Munch confirmed. "They said it could take a few days."

"How about the CCTV?" the Captain frowned.

Fin shook his head.

"It's like finding a needle in a haystack, and we've barely even started," he explained, indicating the boxes stacked at the side of the room. "The further we widen the search the more routes seem possible." Their plea for footage from shop keepers and private residences, and the pushiness of those doing the asking, had resulted in more angles and hours than they could have imagined.

"Then check all the routes. I don't care if you need to put in for a week of overtime," Cragen replied, realising the unreasonableness of his request as soon as the words were out of his mouth. "Get some uniforms up here to help," he added.

* * *

One day became two, which quickly turned to a third and a fourth, before Olivia had any time alone in her apartment. She was kept company by a constant rotation of her colleagues, and her insistence that Elliot return home after two nights on her couch, only resulted in him being replaced by Munch. Each guest came with an update on the investigation and the next would follow up with an explanation of how the previous lead had reached a dead end. Tonight, she had finally convinced them all to leave.

Captain Cragen was the last visitor of the day and she was herding him slowly out the door.

"Officers Buchanan and Ramirez are just outside in the squad," he reminded her. "We're going to keep them on you for another few days." They weren't much further forward in terms of the investigation. With no remaining leads to follow, as much as he hated to admit it, all they could really do was ensure she was safe until she was well enough to return to work, and then wait for the perp to strike elsewhere. From the limited profile Huang had given them it was only a matter of time before he did.

"I'm fine, Captain. I can take care of myself."

He nodded, disguising a slight smirk as best he could. She had been insisting the same thing for as long as he'd known her. Through her mother's death and every difficult case which had hit too close to home or put her life on the line, Detective Benson had always been fine.

"I know you can, Olivia, but it won't hurt for you to have a bit of extra security until you're back on your feet."

As far as Olivia was concerned she was already back on her feet. She was itching to get out of her apartment and get some air. Feeling like she was under constant surveillance, even if it was from those with her interests at heart, wasn't doing any favours for her increasing feelings of anxiety. The investigation had gone nowhere and now her mind was trying to fill the blanks from wherever it could. She was having nightmares that she couldn't even be sure were just dreams.

"I need to get back to work," she told him. "I can't sit around my apartment staring at the walls when I know how much there is to be done."

"Take the rest of the week," Cragen replied. "Get some rest and then we can talk about it."

Olivia wanted to argue her case for returning sooner, but knew her Captain well enough to quit while she was ahead. Even when she returned, she knew he'd want to limit her work for a while to keep an eye on her. Protesting that she was physically fine was only opening the door for him to pry into what was going on in her head.

"Yes, Sir," she agreed.

"I'm just going to be at home with my unfinished reports for 1PP tonight so you can call me," he reminded her. "Anything you need."

She nodded but they both knew it would take something on par with the apocalypse before she called for help.

With the Captain gone, Olivia headed back inside her apartment. The kitchen counter was scattered with used mugs - the result of the constant stream of cops in need of coffee who had been passing through. She filled the sink and started to wash them, unsure where to start now that she was in the no man's land of being left to her own devices but without any real freedom. In any other circumstances she would have had no problem filling her evening but she knew that tonight would be long.

Her next task was to tackle the flowers, which had accumulated in vases and then in less suitable receptacles, as her colleagues and friends had attempted to cheer her up. The Captain's bouquet still lay abandoned on the coffee table from his visit. She was sure none of them had her down as the kind of person to dot fresh-cut blooms around her apartment but the gesture seemed to go naturally hand in hand with the sympathetic smiles which they also brought in droves.

The washing up and flower arranging occupied her hands for a while but didn't serve to do anything else to settle her. The noise of her downstairs neighbour's TV droning away in the background was grating on her nerves and she felt claustrophobic in what she had previously considered to be a spacious apartment by Manhattan standards. After days cooped up she needed the change of scenery and air which would come with being outside. Of course she wanted what she couldn't have.

Knowing that it was pointless trying to convince the officers downstairs that she could walk around the block alone for ten minutes, she opened the windows as wide as she could and lay down on the couch, turning on her own TV in search of a new distraction. Hopping channel to channel she was quickly aware that it wasn't going to come. A few minutes of an old Western, followed by five of some reality show and another five of a game show was all she could take before she turned it off again.

The muffled sound of canned laughter from downstairs permeated her ears again and she groaned, pulling an uncomfortable pillow from under her back and tossing it to the floor. She stared at the ceiling, visualising it closing in on her and trapping her in an even more confined space.

The one thing which would keep her busy was the one thing she didn't want in her head. It wouldn't take her long to occupy her mind if she let herself focus on the fading bruises around her wrists and imagine the binds that had kept them in some unnatural position not so long ago. If she pictured a glass bottle smashing into the side of her head and causing her to drop to her knees then her brain would start to play out a personalised thriller, just for her.

The TV remote was just an arm's length away and she picked it up, pressing the button and bringing the screen back to life. This time she opted for the same sitcom as her neighbour. She might as well have the picture to accompany the sound and it was a better than the alternative. That would come soon enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for reading and for the feedback on the last chapter. Enjoy the next one. **

* * *

**Chapter 4**

She bit down on her own tongue against the pain of the rope around her ankles being pulled tighter. Under the tape she could hardly move her lips and screaming out loud wasn't an option. She couldn't let herself panic or she'd be unable to catch her breath. She had to take it slowly, drawing air gently in and out through her nose, ignoring the dry catch in her throat with every inhale. The dark prevented her figuring out where she was, or maybe the problem was that she couldn't open her eyes.

The sweat trickling down her back and coating her forehead was the only source of moisture in the room. How could it be this hot? With no way to see she could only try to guess what could be causing the radiating heat.

As her temperature soared so did she, with the sensation of the solid ground beneath her melting away until she was only aware of her own body. Overheating. Losing the steady supply of air. Losing control completely.

With a rush of bile to her throat and one sudden, jerky movement, Olivia was upright in her bed. Her hand remained clasped over her mouth for several seconds until she was sure that the urge to vomit was part of her dream and not the reason for waking.

The heat made an unexpected change, she thought to herself, tossing the extra blankets aside and feeling goosebumps rise on her arms as they were exposed to the cool air. It calmed her to regain control of her own thermostat and she lay in the cold until she had started to shiver. The other times she had woken she had already been chilled to the bone, unable to heat her body in the damp basement or drafty attic. On those occasions the blankets had been piled on until she felt like she was building a nest.

Once she was reoriented to her real surroundings she lay back down, rolling onto her side, where she could see the door now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She knew none of it was real - the nightmares or the sense of danger - but it was the rational part of her which slept and the irrational part which stayed up most of the night.

It seemed like no time at all before she was jumping upright again, but this time without a dream as pre-warning. She had managed to get comfortable and to drift off somewhere that even her dark thoughts couldn't reach. Wherever that was, she had been the closest to peaceful that she'd felt in a long time.

And then, before she was even fully aware she was awake, her heart was working so hard that she could feel its efforts echo around her chest and she was opening her eyes to take in the early light creeping into her apartment.

The buzzer which had pulled her unknowingly from her sleep sounded again and as a reflex she reached for the gun on her nightstand. It went against all firearms safety for her to have it there but she told herself this was only a temporary measure.

Sliding cautiously from her bed, and stepping across the floor around the discarded blankets and pillows, she knew she would need help if this went on any longer. There couldn't be any incidents of panic while she was at work. But for now, while she was still struggling to get a handle on her fear, she kept a firm grip of the weapon.

"Who's there?" she questioned, keeping an eye on the locked door and preparing herself to face any threat.

"Ready to go, partner?" Elliot's voice crackled over the intercom. She hadn't even noticed the time.

Olivia felt some of the tension release as the immediate danger had passed, but it was replaced with a different kind of anxiety.

She buzzed him in, smoothing down her hair and slowing her breathing while he climbed the stairs to her apartment. She was nowhere near ready for work. Having seen almost every hour through the night she couldn't believe she had now slept in. As a last thought, she tossed her gun onto her bed, out of sight. Better that Elliot didn't know she felt a need to be armed to answer the door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, opening the door and hoping he wouldn't pay much attention to her dishevelled appearance.

"Breakfast," he responded, extending a paper bag of bagels towards her. "Did you just wake up?"

He had been awake early and, not wanting to disturb Kathy with his restlessness, had got up instead of tossing and turning until their alarm sounded. Olivia returning to work seemed to increase the significance of the investigation going cold. He didn't like the thought of her being back out on the street while her abductor remained unknown. A run around the block had failed to clear his head and after a shower, he had realised that the only way he would feel better was to be sure she was safe.

"I forgot to set my alarm," she replied, with a shrug. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be ready."

Elliot raised his eyebrows at her rejection of the bagels. She sighed, shaking her head and taking one from the bag. She took a bite, and threw him a look which warned that was the best he was going to get as she headed back into her bedroom.

Safely in her room, she leaned against the wall, rubbing her eyes and trying to pull herself together. She leaned forward, letting the blood rush to her head as she stretched out her arms and shoulders. She glanced over to where her gun had been hastily thrown onto her unmade bed.

"Get it together," she mumbled under her breath.

With one last deep breath she set about getting dressed and making herself presentable.

"Good to go," she announced with a smile, finding Elliot in her kitchen drinking one of the coffees he had brought along with the bagels.

"Drink up," he instructed, handing her the other. "We've already got a call." She'd done a good job at brightening her face with make-up but he could still see that she needed a boost.

She hesitated, ready to go through the same routine as she had with the bagel.

"Thanks, but I think I'll grab some tea later," she responded.

For the first time he registered that it wasn't just the tiredness that made her seem off.

"You okay?" he questioned.

She nodded, scooping up her keys and some other abandoned items from the counter and dropping them into her purse.

"Just a little nervous about being back," she admitted. "Cragen's going to be watching me like a hawk. And you... well, you don't normally bring me bagels before a shift."

Elliot immediately felt a little guilty for contributing to the sense that Olivia was under scrutiny. She was right - they would all be keeping an eye on her - but it was only because they cared. No one doubted her ability or thought that she couldn't cope. They just wanted her to be safe.

"We thought we'd lost you," he reminded her. "That first night..." he trailed off. There were things she didn't know and he didn't need to fill her in when she was already on edge. "We should get going," he diverted. "There's a female vic at Mercy. She was admitted after an OD and disclosed to a nurse when she woke up."

"Yeah," she responded, grounding herself with the task ahead. "Lets get going."

* * *

Routine. Familiarity. These were good things.

Waiting at the nurses' station in the busy emergency department for someone to take them to their victim was about as ordinary as a day could get for Olivia. Yet she was still struggling to shake the restlessness which had been following her since she woke up. Maybe she shouldn't have pushed so hard for the Captain to let her back. Another week might have got her in a frame of mind where she wasn't jumping at every unexpected sound.

"Detectives?" a doctor asked, taking a break from his rounds to bring the police up to speed on his patient.

"Benson and Stabler," Olivia introduced herself and her partner before Elliot had even had the chance to reach for his shield, finding that her unease also seemed to have sharpened her reactions.

"Good to meet you," the doctor continued, indicating that they should follow him as he walked. "Miss Kane is in a side room. She got a little combative when we told her the police were on their way," he explained. "But crystal meth does tend to have that effect," he added, with a knowing smile directed straight towards Olivia, as though she would share his disdain at an addict taking up their time.

"So can being raped," she responded, shortly.

The doctor glanced to Elliot but was met by an equally stony expression.

"Yes, she told one of our nurses that she had been assaulted but she doesn't have much memory of it," he explained, pausing when he came to a closed door. The reception his views had received from the detectives didn't dissuade him from continuing. "Her injuries aren't inconsistent with an assault but I suspect they are also a hazard of her profession. I hope she isn't wasting your time."

Elliot could sense that Olivia's patience with the man had already been stretched and stepped in. It wouldn't do her any favours to be reported to the Captain for losing her temper with a doctor on her first day back. He'd seen her fly off the handle in the past when apparent professionals had suggested that sex workers didn't have the same rights as other.

"We've got it from here," he interrupted. "Thanks, Doctor."

The doctor left them and Elliot followed up his interruption with a look which told Olivia that the man wasn't worth her causing trouble.

"After you," he offered, holding the door open to let her take the lead. His inadvertent welcome back present, which was going down a lot easier than the bagel and coffee, was to keep her busy enough to be distracted.

In her anger at the doctor, and her renewed focus on assuring the victim that there was someone out there who wanted to hear her story, Olivia's own problems were able to take a back seat. It was good to have a purpose outside her own mind.

Inside the room, a twenty-something woman perched on the edge of the bed with her back turned to the door.

"Miss Kane?" Olivia called, announcing their presence. "We're detectives from the Special Victims Unit. Do you feel up to a few questions?"

The woman looked round tentatively with the same rabbit in the headlights look that they had seen a hundred times. Olivia offered her a reassuring smile as she stepped closer. The woman's expression didn't change.

"I didn't call you," she explained. "I have nothing to say."

"You told the nurse you'd been sexually assaulted. We're here to help you," Olivia continued, despite the somewhat frosty reception.

Elliot hung back, knowing he wasn't going to be able to do much to help the situation. This was what Olivia was good at but there were some people that just didn't want them intervening. He just hoped that, with everything else that was going on, his partner would be able to keep that perspective

* * *

Despite Olivia's best efforts, the woman remained tight lipped about what may have happened and they were soon on their way back to the precinct having made little progress. While Olivia's frustration was almost palpable, Elliot seemed more annoyed by their wasted morning.

"Candy Kane," he repeated, aloud, for at least the third time since they had given up with their reluctant victim. "Did she really think anyone would buy that?"

Olivia kept her eyes on the road in front of them but shook her head. It wasn't really a surprise that the woman had been so hesitant to trust them when she had been treated like a criminal since her arrival at the hospital. She had left her card and hoped to have a second try in a day or two but Elliot was less willing to give the case more time.

"She's not the first victim to give us a false name," Olivia reminded him. There were infinite reasons for someone hiding their identity or details of an assault from the police and not all of them meant that the attack hadn't happened.

"She's never going to co-operate."

Olivia braked hard as they pulled up at a stop sign, forcing Elliot to steady himself with an arm on the dashboard. If it hadn't been for her stern expression he'd have made a comment about needing hazard pay to get in a car with her.

"You don't agree?" he asked. "You don't think our time would be better spent with victims who can actually give us a statement?"

Olivia glanced away from the road to look at her partner. They didn't always agree over cases but she could normally rely on him to be in the victim's corner. Today he seemed far from it.

"You don't believe her?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"She hasn't told us anything to believe."

With the junction ahead clear, Olivia moved off, turning her attention back to driving once again as though she could only do one task at a time. The irritability came from her disrupted sleep and an unproductive morning, but Elliot's attitude was aggravating her further.

"She just needs more time," she reasoned. "Once she has her head straight we can try again."

"Or we could focus on the other open cases on our desks. We have enough to be doing without wasting time on dead ends."

The rape kit showed possible signs of trauma but no fluids and, assuming she had been attacked, the girl had been strung out on meth for the duration. Now she wasn't even willing to co-operate. Olivia might have thought he was being stubborn but she surely had to see that he was right about the problems with making a case. There was no way that Alex would go for it without a victim statement.

"So we should only investigate the easy cases and forget about the rest?" she asked, her irritation edging close to anger. "Are we giving up on all cases where the victim can't give us a blow by blow of what happened?"

They had pulled into the parking lot behind the precinct and she was quick to unbuckle her seat belt and open the door. The parallel she was drawing had already been insinuated and she didn't need to say anything further. Elliot had seen her get like this before and he knew she wasn't open to reason.

"This is why..." he started, expecting her to be out of the car before he finished his sentence.

"This is why, what?" Olivia responded, pausing to hear what he had to say. Her eyes dared him to complete his thought and he paused, before his own annoyance at her attitude won.

"This is why you should have taken more time off," he continued. "You can't be objective when you're putting yourself in the position of the victim."

Once his words were out he wished he'd restrained himself. Her face morphed from anger into hurt and she turned away. He cringed and brought his palm to his forehead. There was a time and a place for brutal honesty but that was never going to be the best way to handle today.

"Liv..." he sighed. "I didn't..."

"Screw you," she muttered, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

"Olivia, have you got a second?"

She turned, not overly surprised to find that Huang wanted to speak with her. It was now late afternoon and she had been waiting for it all day, especially after she had bumped into Cragen just moments after leaving Elliot in the squad car. Despite her best efforts to hide it, she knew her eyes had been watery with tears.

"Is the Captain worried that I'm back too soon?" she asked, with a knowing look. She'd had long enough to prepare and to moderate the irate tone she had taken with almost everyone else all day.

"Let's just have a chat," he continued, hoping she wouldn't put up too much of a fight.

She followed him into an empty interview room and took a seat with some reluctance. Despite the psychiatrist's kind demeanour, it always felt like she was getting into trouble when he wanted to talk. She glanced around, clasping her hands in front of her in a conscious attempt to avoid her body language appearing too defensive.

"How are you?" he asked, and she laughed as she thought of how many times she had answered that question.

"I'm fine," she responded. "I'm getting the occasional headache but I've been cleared for duty."

"And mentally?" he pressed.

"I was shaken up but I don't remember much. I'm getting over it."

"Just because you don't remember the details that doesn't mean you haven't been through a trauma. I know that you know that, Olivia."

He waited for her response. It was normally easier to get her to open up than it was to get through to certain others on the team but it still took a nudge to get through her initial defences. Today they were particularly high.

"I'm fine," she insisted again.

"Are you sleeping?"

"Are you?" she deflected. It hardly seemed a fair measure of mental health when they worked in a profession which led to perpetual sleep deprivation.

"Olivia," he warned.

"If I wasn't fit for work then I wouldn't be here," she assured him. "You can tell Cragen that."

Huang smiled, accepting that she wasn't going to engage today. He knew it could wait. The Captain's request that he check in with her had been out of friendly concern rather than a need to assess her fitness for work. He suspected that Olivia wasn't the only one struggling to come to terms with her abduction.

"If you ever feel that you might not be fine then please remember that I'm on your side."

"I will," she agreed, the formality which had taken over her tone showing no sign of slipping. "Can I go?"

He nodded and she immediately left the room.

She knew Huang meant it when he assured her he was on her side but she wasn't in the mood to have her head shrunk. If she couldn't do anything to catch the person responsible for her own sleepless nights then she would certainly try to achieve it for others. Even if her own team didn't think she was up to it.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks for reading, following and reviewing. Apologies for the slight delay with this chapter. I should be back on track for weekly updates now and hope you enjoy a longer chapter. **

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"Olivia, can you step into my office for a minute," Cragen asked. He'd caught her while she was alone, wishing to deliver the news in person before it spread around the department.

She sighed, fully anticipating another round of the battle Huang had started a few days earlier. Since then she'd been very aware that her every move had been judged by whoever was nearby. Yesterday, Elliot had asked if she was sure she wouldn't rather have decaf when she poured her second cup of coffee before 10am. Given that she had barely spoken to him since their argument in the car, it had been an especially risky comment. The day before that, Huang had clocked that she was still at her desk after the others had left. She wondered what observations the captain had to add, but he was quick to correct her on the reason they needed to speak.

"It's about your case," he explained.

She felt her stomach flip at the unexpected news. While she knew she was under the microscope in terms of how she was coping, she had been under the impression that "her case" was very much on the back burner.

"Has something come up?" she asked, following the captain into his office and pulling the door closed behind them.

"Brooklyn SVU printed a suspect earlier today and the system popped with a match to the prints from your boots," he explained.

"So he's in custody?" Olivia started immediately, caught off guard again by the significance of the development. "Who is he? Is he talking?" Her heart jumped at the possibility that the not knowing could come to an end.

"Olivia, slow down," Cragen interrupted gently. "His name is Peter West. He was arrested on a misdemeanour and had been released with a desk ticket before the match was flagged to anyone," he continued. It was an oversight on which he had already made his opinion clear to the responsible detective's captain but there was nothing that could be done to change that now.

Olivia calmed herself, taking a moment to accept that this was still good news. The trail that had been cold had now sprung back to life. There was a suspect. Someone in the NYPD had found him and they had the information they needed.

"So we know who he is," she stated aloud. "We need to pick him up."

Cragen gave her a look which told her, once again, that she should take a step back.

"I'm going with Fin and Munch to his apartment. We'll take back-up, but I want you and Elliot to stay here. No arguments," he added, stopping Olivia's protests before she even began. There was no chance that he was risking a clean arrest by having the victim and her hot-headed partner involved in the process.

"Then what should I do?" she asked, with just a hint of belligerence. He couldn't really believe she was going to stay put doing paperwork while half of the squad were out apprehending her abductor. She had to see him and she had to have her chance to get answers.

"Honestly, I don't really care what you do as long as you don't leave the precinct until we have him in custody," Cragen responded, bluntly. "I need you safe and I need this to go down by the book."

"And you don't think I can keep it professional?" she pressed, still unhappy to be left behind and still stinging from Elliot's comments about her objectivity.

"I think that any decent defence attorney would have a field day if you were the one sent to arrest him. Can you imagine what they'd say?"

As much as she wanted to, Olivia couldn't really dispute his point. She'd watched cases shift focus from the accused to the victims or arresting officers more times than she'd care to remember.

"This isn't about your ability," Cragen continued. You are one of my best and I want it to stay that way." He had picked up his kevlar vest and was about to pull it on when he hesitated, wondering whether he should tell her the one piece of information from the time she was missing which he'd held back so far. "Olivia, did Elliot tell you what happened on the first night after you disappeared?"

She shook her head. Even leaving their falling out aside, Elliot had said very little about that time. It was almost as though he was also missing memories from the two days.

"They pulled a body out of the river," he began. "The description matched yours and and I was called to the scene. I thought I was going to make a formal ID and so did the others."

"I didn't know..." she said quietly, the blow of the second revelation leaving her unsure of what to say. In the middle of a thousand thoughts, she was suddenly focused on Elliot. She had been giving him the cold shoulder since she they had argued, annoyed by his insensitivity to both her and the victim, and she hadn't once asked how he was doing.

Cragen returned to the vest, fastening the straps, before holstering his gun by his side. He didn't have to say much more to convey the horror they had experienced, or explain why they had been overprotective since her return.

"Let us bring him in and bring this to an end," he finished. "Then we can all move on."

Olivia was still caught up in his words. Wrapped up in her own head, she hadn't given much though to what the rest of the squad had been through while she was missing. Her nightmares were caused by not knowing what had happened, but it hadn't crossed her mind that the others may be unable to forget what they had experienced.

"Yes, Captain," she agreed, finding her voice but not much to say.

* * *

The squad room was unusually quiet for the time of day and neither Elliot nor Olivia had their mind on the papers or screens in front of them. Elliot was the first to give up the act. He'd already balled up a ruined draft of his report, thrown it in the direction of a trash can across the room, retrieved the ball and then tried again several times.

"Come on, I'll treat you to lunch," he suggested. "We're not getting anything done here anyway." He knew she was still angry but she'd have to forgive him eventually.

Olivia put down the pen she had been clenching between her front teeth as she tried to finalise her own paperwork. It was a straight forward DD5 from the previous day but she had spent the past 10 minutes pondering the same section as she stole glances at the clock. Instead of taking in the words she should have been writing she was simultaneously processing what the captain had told her and anticipating the arrest which would be taking place any minute.

"Cragen told us to stay put," she replied, fighting the urge to get out of the stuffy room in order to keep her promise, and also to make it clear to her partner wasn't out of the doghouse yet. Her anger towards him had been somewhat weakened since her conversation with Cragen but he'd still made no real apology and he seemed to be acting like nothing had happened. Her guilt was battling with her stubbornness.

"Since when did that stop you?" he teased. He was surprised she hadn't already found some excuse to follow the others to West's apartment.

"I don't need any more trouble," she responded, flatly, turning back to her notes. She was just as wound up as Elliot by being trapped at their desks but the past few weeks had been tough enough. She didn't want to throw any disciplinary problems into the mix. "And I've put you all through enough already," she added, unable to avoid touching on the subject while she had him alone, despite the tension between them. "You didn't tell me about the body in the river."

Elliot's face dropped. His relief that she was giving him more few words of conversation was short lived. He had been going to tell her when he picked her up from her apartment on her first day back but he'd stopped himself, avoiding the risk of saying things he didn't want to say aloud. In the time between the squad being told about the body and the Captain's relieved phone call, he had prayed for the first time in a long time, and then he had called Kathy and cried. Openly and unashamedly, he had sobbed down the phone until his wife finally managed to calm him. The positive of their fight was that he had managed to avoid making Olivia aware of any of that.

"I'm sure we're allowed to leave our desks to get a sub," he persisted, as though there was nothing in what she had said which needed a response. If he'd had any uncertainty about the distraction he was creating being more for himself than Olivia, then it was cleared up in that moment. He was the one who needed to get out.

"You still haven't apologised," Olivia replied, allowing the change in direction but moving to another subject he was avoiding.

"I am sorry," he responded, sincerely despite the need for a prompt. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Said what?"

He couldn't tell if she needed more to accept his apology or if she was now enjoying watching him squirm. She had a thick skin but he'd hurt her and he knew it, whether he'd been willing to face up to it or not.

"In the car. I shouldn't have questioned your judgement."

"Fine," Olivia replied, grabbing her jacket from the back of her chair. She was confused at what she felt and whether she was ready to forgive him. The captain's revelation and the developments of the day muddled her head further. But she was achieving nothing where she was and, leaving the rest aside, she missed her best friend. "You better be paying this time. You owe me that at least."

"That's what I said," he reminded her, ready to shepherd her out before she changed her mind.

"And you've actually got your wallet?" she asked, tauntingly.

He laughed, finding some some comfort in the fact her smile just about reached her eyes.

"You'll find out soon enough," he responded, continuing to manhandle her the rest of the way out of the squad room. She felt her smile falter, just slightly, as she thought again of how quickly he'd accused her of being unable to stay objective, but then she pushed him off playfully and tried to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. There were more important things to worry about.

* * *

"Clear!"

"Clear in the bedroom!"

"Clear!"

The shouts sounded over radios and spilled out of the apartment, confirming what they had expected since they had arrived and seen no sign of life inside. Cragen waited by the door for the return of his detectives, though he knew what they were going to say.

"There's no sign of him," Fin advised, in case there had been any doubt. "And it doesn't look like there's much out of place in the apartment."

Cragen sighed. From what they knew about West so far, it seemed unlikely that he would have the kind of connections to have been tipped off that they were on their way. It could just have been bad luck that he wasn't at home.

"Get Munch and set up outside in case he comes back," he ordered. "Everyone else clear out of the area," he added for the benefit of the uniformed officers. "It's better if he can't see us from several streets away." West would have to show up at some point and they'd get another chance then.

"Excuse me, Captain," a young officer approached him, nervous but determined to be heard before he had to follow orders and leave. "I think there's somewhere else we should look."

Fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of their suspect but the investigation had turned another welcome, if somewhat disturbing, corner.

"The super says the college kids use it for Halloween parties," Munch filled in the others as he joined them in their examination of the dingy room and its interesting decor. One wall was covered with photographs of women gagged, chained and otherwise held in terror. There was no way to tell if the images were real or if they were as staged as the sacrificial alter and plastic skeletons in another corner.

If it hadn't been for the officer's careful scrutiny of the floor plans, brought on by an eagerness to please in his first month out of the academy, then they might have missed the basement all together. It was supposed to be closed off for residents, after a flood led to the removal of the laundry room 10 years earlier, but the plans confirmed its existence and a broken lock gave them access.

"We've got blood," one of the crime scene techs confirmed, spraying luminol over one area of the floor where scuff marks and a broken chair had indicated it may have been the scene of a struggle. There was a lot to process in the room and it would take time to collect samples and identify all the traces of who had been in the room and what they had been doing.

"Is this Liv's?" Fin asked, holding up an earring, in his gloved hand. He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear. He wanted evidence but he didn't want to think of her being brought here against her will. The silver hoop, which had caught his eye as he shone his flashlight over the ground, wasn't distinctive enough for anyone to be sure and it was photographed and bagged to be identified later.

Cragen took one final glance around the room before leaving his detectives to supervise the rest of the search. He knew that back at the precinct, two other detectives would be waiting anxiously for news.

"I'm going to update Liv and Elliot," he told them. "Let me know what else you find."

* * *

Olivia was reluctant to admit that Elliot was right, but, on this occasion, she had to agree that his suggestion of getting out of the squad room had been a good one. As they walked along the sidewalk, feeling the slightest hint of warmth from the sun, she felt calmer than she had expected. There was no denying that her mind was still occupied by what would be happening at Peter West's apartment at that very moment but, like Cragen had said, they would soon all be able to move on.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she offered her partner, bringing up the subject he had dodged in the squad room. She had to say it, especially when he had now apologised several times over for what he had said on her first day back. Her stubbornness had lost to the guilt.

He took a bite of his sandwich, momentarily pretending he hadn't caught her meaning. Unlike Olivia, he had no interest in having this conversation.

"El," she prompted, refusing to let him off the hook. They were only a block away from being back where he could hide behind a computer screen or become absorbed in reviewing a witness statement if he didn't want to answer her.

"It wasn't your fault," he answered at last. "It was his."

He swallowed a hunk of bread, forcing it down as he found his mouth lacking in moisture. Olivia might have decided it was time to air their feelings but he didn't feel like being quite so open.

"If I'd known what had happened I wouldn't have been so... difficult," she chose the word carefully after some thought. Out of everyone, it was Elliot who had borne the brunt of her mood swings. He was overbearing and, at times, bordering on condescending, so she could justify snapping in response. But then she imagined how she would have felt if she'd thought he was dead, even just for a minute, and his behaviour made sense. "I didn't think about what you had been through."

"West," Elliot mumbled, sounding as surprised as Olivia was confused.

"What?" she asked.

"That's him. Up ahead." He nodded in the direction of a young man, crossing the street around 100 yards in front of them. Olivia's confusion quickly shifted to disbelief, and then to the all-too-familiar panic.

In the same moment, it became evident that the man in question had also clocked them and he sped up, making no secret of his desire to get away. Olivia's hand reached for her radio, ready to call in the sighting, but, without thought, Elliot had already broken into a jog and was weaving through the traffic to give chase.

"Hey!" he yelled. "Stop!"

Against her better judgement, Olivia followed, holding out her badge by way of explanation to the angry drivers who had been forced to stop at awkward angles in the wake of the commotion. By the time she reached the other side of the street, Peter West was running at full pace, but Elliot's determination to reach him was giving the detective the advantage. As the gap between the two men decreased she too quickened her jog to a run, knowing she couldn't leave her partner to confront him alone.

"Stop! NYPD!" Elliot shouted, his anger increasing along with his breathing.

Without warning, West did as he was told, halting and spinning round before the detective could react. Elliot was quick in his attempt to slow down but the other man still had the upper hand at the point they came face to face. West's fist collided with his jaw and, caught off guard, Elliot went down with a thud, letting out a grunt as he hit the sidewalk.

"10-13! 10-13!" Olivia called, radioing in the need for assistance which she wished she had made before joining the pursuit. Her eyes didn't leave the men ahead as she confirmed their location. West had lost his valuable lead in the time it had taken to knock Elliot to the ground and, while he was now trying to make up for it, she still had a chance of catching him.

Elliot was sitting where he had fallen with his hand resting reflexively on the side of his jaw which had taken the full force of the punch. He watched as she caught up, not quite having regained his bearings to the extent of getting back on his feet.

"I'm good - go after him," he insisted, when she showed signs that she might stop to help. She gave him a slight nod in acknowledgement of his reassurance as she kept going.

West had rounded a corner and soon, he and Olivia were out of sight. By the time he was on his feet, Elliot couldn't be completely sure where they had gone.

If it hadn't been for the shout of a business man, now wearing the cup of coffee he had been enjoying just seconds earlier, Olivia would also have lost West when he ducked into an alley soon after turning the corner. But thanks to the vocal man, she was now stepping closer to where he crouched behind a dumpster, leading her way with the gun.

"Come out slowly and with your hands where I can see them," she instructed, trying to ignore the effect that the combination of exertion and adrenaline was having on her heart rate. He was trapped and as long as she held her nerve she was the one in control.

After a moment's hesitation the tips of his fingers appeared above the dumpster, followed by his arms and then his head, as he got to his feet and stepped into full view. Her weapon remained trained on the figure, who turned towards her revealing a broad smile.

"Missing me already?" he grinned. "This is just like the first time we met. It's sweet you want to do it again."

A chill joined the blood which was pumping too quickly around her body. If there had ever been any doubt that they had the right man it was now gone.

"Get on the ground with your hands on your head."

He laughed at her latest order, enjoying the look of fear which even her authoritative commands and department issued pistol couldn't mask.

"Do it!" she yelled, her finger gripping the trigger with just a little more pressure.

With another laugh and a gesture of mock surrender, he again followed her command. Her eyes were wide and her arms weren't as steady as she hoped.

"You're being very demanding. One minute you want me to stand up and the next you want me on my knees. I don't remember you being so compliant when I was the one in control. At least not without a little persuasion."

His words were continuing to have the desired effect of unnerving her but she forced herself to approach. She had to complete the process of apprehending him. Whatever had happened, she was now the police detective arresting a suspect. Warily, she stepped behind him and took hold of his wrist with her free hand, ready to cuff him. He flinched, only slightly, but enough to throw her off. Before she knew it she was pressing her weight against his back and pinning him closer and closer to the ground.

"You've got me," he told her, the grin still evident in his voice, even as he felt the damp grit leave indents in one side of his face. "Woah!" he explained suddenly, playing on his slight advantage in size and jerking up to prove that he could take the upper hand in a few moves if she wasn't careful. "Don't you?" he questioned, playing on her self-doubt.

She applied more pressure to his back, her gun held just inches from him in an attempt to give herself extra protection. She was normally quick with her words around perps but she had frozen, wondering if the memories in her head were real or if she was still fabricating them, but now with his assistance.

Now that she was close enough to hear the faint Brooklyn accent and to smell the cheap cologne and unwashed hair she thought she could remember. That grinning face had been there as she had come to in an alley not so different to this one. She was sure she'd felt that breath against her neck before as he bound her wrists.

"Are you going to shoot me, Detective?"

Olivia forced herself to pause. The second it would take to fill her lungs with air would let her take back the control she needed. He was face down on the ground. She was the one with her knee pressing hard into his spine and the ability to send a bullet through his body at any moment. If she wanted to then she could end this.

"Olivia!" Cragen shouted, arriving with the much needed back-up before the thought could develop further.

Taking advantage of the appearance of enough police officers to out manoeuvre any trick West might try, she holstered her weapon and clicked the handcuffs around his wrists, roughly. Her fear turned to anger and the Miranda warning which she could normally recite in her sleep was suddenly a step too far. She got to her feet, leaving him on the ground as she walked away.

"Someone needs to read him his rights," she muttered, putting as much distance between herself and the man's laugh as possible.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who is reading this and reviewing. It makes my day when I get a notification that someone has followed or favourited.**_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

No matter how many times it played out, there was always something about reprimanding his detectives which made Cragen feel like a teacher telling off a couple of petulant students. This was one of the occasions when he couldn't even justify them having ignored orders. All he had wanted them to do was to stay put for a couple of hours. It shouldn't have been difficult.

"What part of staying in the precinct did I not make clear to you?" he asked.

"Sorry, Captain," Olivia apologised, knowing from experience that it was easier to seek forgiveness than to attempt to explain away their disobedience of a direct order.

"It was my idea," Elliot admitted, trying to shield his partner as best he could. "We were just getting something to eat."

Cragen knew that. He knew they hadn't actually been so stupid as to go hunting for the one person they had been told to avoid. But somehow Elliot and Olivia always seemed to find their way into trouble. He didn't have the energy to do more than make it clear that he wasn't happy, and from their expressions that was already coming across.

"Elliot, make yourself useful, but keep away from West," he warned, dismissing the detective."I need to speak with Olivia."

"I'm watching the interrogation," Elliot responded, making it clear that his idea of keeping away may differ from that of his Captain. He wasn't feeling quite as sheepish as he had first appeared.

"Fine," the older man agreed, deciding to pick his battles. "But get some ice for your jaw before you do," he instructed. The detective's face was starting to bruise and swell where it had collided with West's fist. He didn't need a member of the squad looking like they had been in a brawl.

Elliot nodded and left the room, with a quick squeeze of Olivia's shoulder as he went. In being unable to assist her when she came face to face with West, his ego had taken more of a battering than his face.

Left alone with the Captain, Olivia knew that, despite Elliot's attempts to take the blame for their misstep, she was the one who would be facing the brunt of his anger. He had seen her before she cuffed West and, rightly so, he wasn't impressed. She sat up a little straighter as he angled his chair to face her more directly.

"Didn't you hear a word I said about keeping this arrest clean?" he said. There was a hint of concern in his voice but his disappointment and anger were still predominant. "What do you plan to say if his attorney asks you how long it took between getting him under control and lowering your weapon?"

Olivia remained silent. She wasn't sure if it was worse to admit how much she had wanted to pull the trigger or to admit that she had frozen.

"If you're trying to convince me that your're fit for duty then that isn't the way to do it. Do I need to order a psychiatric assessment?"

"No, Captain," she insisted. "I'm fine. He just caught me off guard."

Cragen nodded, and relented slightly. He was holding her to a very high standard in the circumstances, and it it was perhaps too high, but he couldn't risk having an detective in the field if they weren't up to the job. Especially not when brass were watching as closely as they were at the moment.

"Elliot has a temper as it is. I need you in control," he explained. "If you need help then there is no shame in admitting that. You've been through a lot." He paused, giving her another opportunity to open up, but she didn't take it. All she wanted was to be out of the room and to have the chance not to mess up again.

"I'm sorry," she apologised. "It won't happen again."

"Good," he responded. He frowned slightly as he realised how drained she appeared. "You should go home for the rest of the day. It'll be easier if you don't accidentally bump into Peter West again."

Part of her wanted to be at home, where she could try to forget the day, but the desire to stay and find out how the interrogation developed was stronger.

"I still have some work to finish up," she told him, slightly hesitant at challenging him in the current circumstances.

Cragen sighed, unsure if he should be making his suggestion that she go home an order.

"Keep out of the way," he compromised, as he had done for Elliot, though he was simultaneously hoping she might decide for herself that she would be better off elsewhere. "I don't want to see you again today."

* * *

From the other side of the two-way mirror, Alex Cabot watched the interview of Peter West take place, the concentration on her face confirming the degree of professional scrutiny she was applying to the situation.

"Are we sure this is the guy that took Olivia?" she asked, a degree of disbelief evident in her voice as she took in the appearance of the twenty-something opposite Munch and Finn. He wasn't exactly the hardened criminal she had pictured.

"What do you mean 'are we sure'?" Elliot demanded. "He confessed to her on the street. He taunted her until back-up arrived."

Alex waited for Cragen's response, not wishing to provoke the detective with her follow-up questions. Whatever the boy had said earlier, he certainly wasn't confessing now. And a college drop-out who hadn't even had the sense to lawyer up wasn't exactly easy to sell to a jury as the mastermind behind the kidnap of an experienced police detective.

"We ID'd him from his prints on Olivia's boots," Cragen responded, reminding the ADA that they hadn't pulled their suspect from nowhere.

"Has she ever been bowling or left them outside her locker at the gym?" Alex questioned, exemplifying her point that their evidence wasn't cut and dry. All the defence needed to do was introduce a theory which brought about reasonable doubt.

"You can't be serious," Elliot continued, his frustration edging towards anger. "This is our guy. Let me in there and I'll show you a confession."

Alex didn't dignify his suggestion with an answer and simply raised her eyebrows at the Captain. So far, SVU were not helping themselves if they wanted a conviction. They needed solid evidence and a version of events which the defence wouldn't tear apart in an instant.

Elliot balled his tender fist and paced closer to the glass as though willing it to disappear to give him a clear run at the man on the other side. Cragen found that his own frustration grew along with Elliot's. He wouldn't say anything with the ADA in the room but he was certain his detective's only injury from the pursuit had been to his jaw. The injury to his hand was new.

"Elliot, go and check on Liv," he ordered. It was the only task which was likely to draw the detective away from the interrogation room.

With some reluctance, Elliot followed the Captain's command. He had the sense not to risk losing his temper around his superior when he was already on his bad side.

Alex took her eyes off the interview, momentarily, to watch the younger man leave. She wanted to crucify the guy responsible for hurting Olivia too but her boss wasn't going to go for a prosecution with only circumstantial evidence.

"Get me something a judge and jury are going to believe and I'll have him arraigned in the morning," she promised. "But make sure West doesn't end up with a mark more on him - I'm not stupid, Don," she added.

Cragen nodded his agreement. The scrapes on West's face were explainable, given the way he had been restrained during the arrest, but the bloody nose, which had appeared around the same time as Elliot started to nurse his right hand, was more of a problem. It wasn't unsurprising that she had noticed.

"He put us all through hell," he reminded her, finding himself justifying his detective's violence, despite his desire to tear into Elliot for it.

"I know," Alex agreed. She too had experienced the two days of jumping each time her phone rang and worrying when it didn't. "That's why we have to nail him on this."

* * *

Elliot found Olivia in the cribs, perched on the edge of a bed and staring vacantly into the mug she clasped between her hands. She had tired to keep busy but she was unable to complete any of the tasks she started. Her mind would wander to thoughts of the scenes that might be playing out in the interrogation room before she could fully process anything else.

"Cragen knows you didn't go home," he announced.

She glanced up, giving her partner a small smile to acknowledge his presence. After her dressing down by Cragen she was smart enough to do as she had been told and keep out of sight. But she hadn't wanted to stray too far from where Peter West might be convinced to explain what had happened to her. She and Cragen had both known she wasn't going home.

"Is he talking?" she asked, unsure whether she should be hopeful.

Elliot shook his head.

"Not yet, but Fin and Munch are just getting started."

She felt her heart sink even further. Nothing about the day had gone to plan. Her attacker should be well on his way to a cell at Rikers by now but instead they were only just starting the process of getting his confession.

"How's your jaw?" she asked Elliot, changing the subject.

"Feels like I got suckerpunched with a steel glove," he replied, rubbing the side of his face gingerly.

She grimaced in sympathy.

"He did get in one hell of a shot," she reminded him.

"A lucky shot," Elliot grinned. They both knew that in most circumstances Elliot could give just as good as he got. Olivia remained unaware that in the process of moving West from the holding cell to the interrogation room, he'd managed to get even. He hadn't intended to hurt West when he'd volunteered to move him, but when the man had started to make comments about Olivia, he hadn't been able to restrain himself. "And, anyway, my ass got it worse. The sidewalk was the real winner," he added, deciding to keep to himself that West was no longer one up on him. He winced as he sat down beside her.

"It usually is," she laughed, but any hint of real happiness died as the sound hit the air.

"Are you still hanging in there?" he asked, to which she responded with a prolonged nod.

"I'm fine," she promised, though her eyes told another story. He wrapped an arm around her and, without saying a word, she leaned closer to rest her head on his shoulder. He knew that none of the platitudes he could offer her would make any difference to how she was feeling so he let the silence continue. She stayed put for a minute or so before moving away from his support.

"I'm fine," she repeated.

* * *

It was an hour into the interview and Peter West had responded to their questions with nothing but confusion and occasional tears. Munch was growing sullen in his frustration but Fin was more aggressive. He paced across the interrogation room, kicking the table as he came close to their suspect. It had to be an act. There was no doubt in his mind that they had their man in custody.

"You need to stop wasting our time," he warned him, over the rattling metal. "Why was Detective Benson's earring in your basement?"

West kept his eyes trained on the table, refusing to meet the gaze of either detective. It had been his preferred position for the majority of the interview.

"I don't know," he mumbled, just loud enough to be heard.

"Let's try another one then," Fin continued. "Why were your finger prints on her boots?" The room was uncomfortably stuffy and he was tired and hungry after a day which already felt too long. It was hard to keep going with such an uncooperative suspect.

"I don't know," came the now very predictable response.

Fin stepped back from the table, reigning in his anger as best he could. He'd heard Olivia's account of what West had said when she had cornered him in the alley and he'd witnessed the man taunt Elliot until he had snapped and slammed a fist into his nose. The scared kid routine didn't fit with what he had done so far.

Letting his partner take a moment to cool off, Munch broke his silence to take another shot.

"Since you don't know anything about Detective Benson or her belongings, maybe you can tell us what you _were_ doing on February 12th?" he posed, hoping that even a false alibi might give them something else to pick apart. As several seconds passed without response it seemed that West was considering his answer. Before speaking, he raised his head and, at last, faced Munch head on.

"I don't know," he answered, slowly, this time revealing the smirk which his bowed head had previously hidden. It was clear he was now bored with the charade.

Any restraint Fin had previously managed to hold was gone.

"Don't you know any other words?" he exclaimed, aware that his raised voice was getting him nowhere but unable to hold back now he was certain that West was playing a game. The younger man pulled his mouth back to a neutral expression, though his eyes continued to smile. He leaned across the table, as close to the detectives as he could stretch without leaving his chair.

"I do," he told them, quietly. "Lawyer. Please."

As soon as the magic words had left his mouth, the knock on the door signaled that their time was up. Cragen's face was sympathetic as his detectives stepped out of the room to speak with him.

"You did what you could," he reassured them. "Now take him back to holding until his lawyer gets here."

* * *

"Pick a colour," Elliot ordered, prodding Olivia's leg when she ignored him.

She pulled herself upright, from where she had been leaning back on the bed. The past hour had been painfully slow and she was once again skirting between boredom and restlessness. He had stayed with her, with a comment that misery loves company, and an admission that he too needed to keep out of Cragen's way until everyone was less tense. She had clocked his injured hand but said nothing about it.

"Elliot, I'm not twelve years old," she responded, as he waited with the paper device poised on his fingertips. His attempts to distract her had moved on to the fortune teller he had been gifted by his youngest daughter.

"Come on - Lizzie made it," he prompted.

"Fine. Red." she replied with a shake of her head.

He spelled out the word with a movement for each letter and then turned it towards her to pick a number.

"Five," she selected, raising her eyebrows slightly but giving no further protest.

He counted, and lifted the flap.

"I love you, dad," he read aloud, just as he had on his first turn with the game. "She normally has a much better imagination than that," he added with a grin. His forced cheerfulness wasn't doing them much good but he was now lost for what else to try. Olivia took the fortune teller from him and carefully unfolded it, revealing the same message repeated eight times. "I think she was trying to cheer me up," he added, his smile fading as she passed the paper back to him.

The fortune teller appeared during the second day of Olivia's disappearance. Kathy had offered to bring the twins by on the way back from school but he'd told her not to. He hadn't trusted himself to hold it together. Instead, his wife's care package had contained a few messages from them, along with enough lasagne to feed the squad twice over. He hadn't even looked at their notes until today.

"She's a good kid," Olivia told him.

"They all are," he agreed.

They fell into silence again as Elliot willed away the opening he had given her to bring up how he had been affected by her abduction. It was almost selfish in a way that he was refusing to give her anything on what had happened at the precinct, while demanding every scrap of information she could offer, but being aware of his own selfishness wasn't enough to make him open up.

"Are you ever going to talk about it?" she asked.

He sighed. Was this going to hang over every conversation they had from here on in?

"There's nothing to talk about," he replied.

She watched him with a knowing expression as he avoided her eyes and concentrated on re-creating the folds which had been made by his daughter.

"That's not true," she told him. Bottling up feelings was rarely the best course of action. With all the sleepless nights and unsettled days, she should know.

"There's nothing I want to talk about," Eliiot responded, amending his earlier statement slightly, to one with which it would have been hypocritical of her to argue. With each offer of a listening ear made by her friends and colleagues, there was plenty which Olivia could have said. There was probably plenty she should have said. But what she wanted to say was a different matter.

"Do you want coffee?" she asked him, resorting to a safer topic.

"Sure," he accepted.

* * *

"We've got him!" Fin exclaimed, triumphantly, jumping to his feet before he'd even finished reading the email which had caused his sudden change in mood. The tension in the squad room had been unpleasant to say the least.

Much glanced up, waiting for his partner to fill him in on the good news. They hadn't yet had another run at West, who had now consulted with his appointed lawyer, on orders from Cragen that they should wait for word from the lab on the samples taken from the apartment and basement.

"Blood's the same type as Liv's," he explained. "He had her in the basement."

"And?" Munch asked, his pessimism evident in the single word. The earring had also placed Olivia in the basement, but not their suspect. In her hyper-critical assessment of the evidence, Alex was sure to demand more before her office would charge him.

"And the techs have found traces of the same blood type on a shirt in his closet," Fin continued. He already had a phone in his hand, dialing the ADA's number.

Despite the day, and the weeks which had preceded it, Munch felt a small smile curl across his lips. Considering West had denied all knowledge of having met Olivia before today, he struggled to see how he could explain her blood on his clothes. Surely this was now enough for them to get him?

"I'll update Liv and Elliot," he offered, glad that, for once he would be passing on news of progress rather than disappointment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Same again?" Olivia asked, already turning towards the barman to catch his attention.

Elliot knew it was time to go home. The answer to the day from hell was not going to be found at the bottom of a beer bottle and they were already two drinks in. He should be going home to Kathy while their caseload was slower than normal, and Olivia should be working out her demons somewhere healthier than a bar.

"Thanks," he responded, agreeing to beer number three.

Unsurprisingly, and likely on the advice of his lawyer, West had said very little more when presented with the latest developments in their evidence but they now had Alex convinced that he could be charged. Elliot and Olivia had found themselves in the bar shortly after hearing from the ADA and were missing any sense of elation despite the good news. They were drinking fast and Olivia could feel the buzz from the alcohol start to blur out everything except the part of the day she wanted to forget.

"I might have pulled the trigger if Cragen hadn't appeared when he did," she told him, taking a sip from the glass bottle. " That's the closest I've ever come to killing someone instead of cuffing them."

Elliot didn't say anything at first and just took a long drink from his own bottle. He wasn't sure he believed what she said. Sure, Olivia had been through a lot, but he knew her and she didn't have that kind of anger in her. Not deep down. He looked at his knuckles, patterned with the evidence of his own response to West's taunts.

"I'd have pulled it," he admitted at last. "I don't even know that I'd have hesitated."

Maybe he couldn't be certain of Olivia's mind, but he knew his own. The moment he'd seen the bastard that had hurt her all that had filled his head was a wish that he could have fraction of the time Olivia had been held to let the guy know he couldn't get away with messing with her.

"I don't think I can do this," she admitted, taking courage from another swig of the cold liquid. "I just want it to be over."

"It will be," Elliot assured her. "The arraignment's tomorrow. Any decent lawyer will have told him to plead guilty."

Olivia pondered the thought, wondering if she'd get as lucky as having the process fast forward to sentencing. She knew the steps of the criminal justice system like the back of her hand but that wouldn't make the days and weeks and months any easier to handle if the cogs turned as slowly as they were prone to do.

"I don't think I am fine," she admitted, her boundaries down temporarily as she recalled her earlier response to his enquiries as to how she was doing.

He watched her carefully. She hadn't needed to say it aloud. It was visible in the extra creases around her eyes and the way she fidgeted with the napkin on the bar. She had hardly been still since he had sat by her bed in the hospital. Even earlier, when they had been waiting in the cribs, she hadn't stayed in one position for longer than ten minutes.

"I know," he agreed.

"What if I don't get better?"

The alcohol was making her more dramatic than necessary but her fears were real.

"You'll get there," he assured her, his own tongue also loosened by the beer. "You've got me and you've got Fin and Munch. Even Cragen. We've got your back. You just need to work through this."

She smiled, and it broadened into an unexpected laugh. She wasn't entirely sure why she was laughing. It might have been because he had sounded uncharacteristically like Huang. Or it might just have been because she was exhausted and getting a little bit tipsy.

"What?" he asked, a smile starting to appear despite his confusion, as her laughter became contagious.

"I don't know," she managed, still laughing now that he had also joined in. It felt good, even if they were bordering on hysteria and starting to attract the attention of the other patrons around them. There was something ridiculous about all they had been through in the past few weeks, and in the way West's arrest eventually unfolded. _If you don't laugh then you'll cry, _Olivia thought, an edge of tension returning, despite their smiles.

"We should eat something," Elliot suggested, sensibly, when they finally fell quiet. Their lunchtime escape was a long time ago now and he could just picture Kathy's face if he staggered in the door having had nothing to line his stomach. Her patience had some limits and with the recent late nights at work and unpredictable moods, he was sure he was getting close.

"I think we should go home," she countered. The wave of exhaustion had washed over her so suddenly that she felt herself lean against the bar to make sure she kept herself balanced on the stool. Even the risk of another nightmare wasn't enough to tarnish the appeal of her bed.

"You sure you'll be okay on your own?" he asked.

She nodded, and for once, he believed her. He'd never seen anyone look more ready to fall asleep - it was as though some primal need for rest had overtaken whatever else was going on in her head. He turned towards the barman, trying to get his attention so that he could pay for their drinks, but was interrupted by his cell phone. He frowned slightly, surprised to see the name displayed on the screen - she would normally text him.

"Maureen, what's wrong?" he answered, interrupting his eldest daughter's garbled ramblings which had begun the moment the call connected. The way his face fell made it clear that she wasn't just checking in with him. "Honey, slow down." He stepped away from the bar, giving the call his full attention. "Okay, okay - I'm on my way."

"What's wrong?" Olivia asked, repeating his initial question and grabbing her coat as her partner fumbled urgently for his keys. The exhaustion induced calm she had felt only seconds before had been shaken away yet again.

"It's Maureen. Someone broke into her dorm," he explained, almost annoyed that he was losing time by having to pass on what he had just been told by his daughter. His only goal now was to reach her as quickly as he could.

"I'm coming with you," she insisted, throwing down enough cash to cover their tab, as Elliot made for the door.

"El, we should get a cab," she called after him, catching up as he headed towards where he had parked when he believed he'd be heading home after a quick beer. The phone call was sobering but as the fresh air hit her she knew that neither of them should be behind the wheel of a car. Especially not with the added shock that came with Maureen being in distress.

"I need to get to my daughter," he responded, seemingly planning to ignore her suggestion until a yellow taxi came into view.

"Elliot," she protested. He'd be no good to anyone if he ended up in a wreck.

Without warning he stuck out his arm, hailing the cab with his shield just visible in his hand. The driver swerved to a stop and he jumped in.

"Hurry up," he called back to Olivia, allowing her a few seconds to join him. He was playing the only two coherent facts his daughter had relayed over and over again in his head. She had gone to bed early with a cold. Someone had broken into her room. He hadn't absorbed anything else before promising that he would get to her.

For the first five minutes of the drive, neither of them spoke. Picking up on tension, but with no knowledge of the source, the cab driver turned up the radio. The sounds of an old country song replaced the silence with lyrics about trains and God.

"She'll be okay," Olivia said at last, unable to watch him fall any deeper into his worry without attempting to pull him out. Their role reversal from earlier in the day had been so seamless that neither of them even noticed it happen.

"If he laid a finger on her..."

His response was really just a vocalisation of his current thoughts but at least he'd said something. Olivia touched his arm in a further attempt to offer reassurance. He gazed out of the window, mentally calculating how much longer it would be until they reached the college campus. It would have been easy enough for Maureen to stay at home rather than move into the dorms. He wished he had pushed that option more.

* * *

The dorms were like a maze. It had been less than a semester since he had helped her move in her over-spilling boxes of belongings, but they still took several wrong turns as they negotiated the corridors and stairs. Elliot had darted off as soon as they had paid the cab driver and Olivia had struggled, once again, to keep pace. With one thing on his mind he was barely aware of the woman jogging behind him. It was a relief when he saw the open door and his daughter hovering anxiously outside.

"Maureen!"

He grabbed hold her as soon as she was in touching distance, pulling her tight against his chest for several seconds. Then, without warning, he released her, taking hold of her shoulders and scanning every inch of her body for signs of harm.

"Did he touch you? Maureen, did he touch you?" he demanded. Physically, she seemed to be okay, but he needed to hear her say it for herself.

Maureen stared back at him, too startled by his aggression to respond.

"Elliot, you're scaring her," Olivia cautioned, prompting him to release his grip.

"I'm sorry, honey," he soothed, returning to holding her against his chest and gently kissing the top of her head.

"I'm fine, dad," she assured him, breaking away in her own time. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, staying close to her father. He directed her inside the room, lost for words but knowing that she might like a little privacy.

Inside, nothing seemed out of order. The room was basic and a little untidy, much like every other on the floor and on those above and below. There wasn't anything to indicate that someone unauthorised had been inside.

"Did you get a look at him?" Olivia asked, filling the silence while Elliot struggled to regain composure.

Maureen shook her head and perched on the edge of her bed. Elliot took a seat beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"No," she replied. "It was dark and I only woke up with the flash. He ran off when I screamed." She leaned closer to her father as she recounted what had happened.

"The flash?" Elliot questioned, trying not to sound too urgent or to overwhelm her again. "Like a camera?"

"Maybe - I guess it looked like that," Maureen replied. "Do you think he was going to hurt me?" she asked, turning to her dad. The question of the intruder's intentions had been on his mind since the moment she had called him but it wasn't something he wanted to get into, especially when she was already so scared.

Elliot said nothing but kissed his daughter's head again. It was irrational, but alongside his concern, he was becoming overwhelmed with guilt that he had been drinking with Olivia while his child was in danger.

"Olivia?" Maureen persisted.

"I don't know, sweetie," the detective answered, honestly. She also dreaded to think what the intruder may have had in mind but, thankfully something had made him stop.

"You're safe and he _didn't_ hurt you - that's what matters," Elliot added, echoing his partner's thoughts. "Do you want to come home tonight?"

She nodded, leaning closer to her dad once again.

"I'll stay here and speak with campus security," Olivia offered, knowing that taking care of Maureen was now going to be a family affair in which she had no part to play. Her ongoing role was limited to that of investigating the break-in.

"Thanks," Elliot replied, helping Maureen to her feet. "Get your coat, honey. I'll call mom and let her know what's happened."

* * *

"You look like you could use something warm."

Olivia looked up to see the campus security officer she now knew to be Frank, with a cup of coffee. She'd come across obstruction when they had tried to investigate offences committed at universities in the past but he was doing all he could to assist.

"Tastes like crap but it'll do the job," he added.

She smiled gratefully as she accepted the paper cup, but her head was too full to make conversation. It had reassured her a little that she could switch her focus from her own situation to Maureen's as quickly as she had. For the first time in a while she only had to contend with being a detective and, working with those who didn't know her, she was being viewed as nothing more and nothing less. The detective work itself was now the problem. As was normally the case when students and alcohol combined, getting a straight story from anyone was less then simple. No matter how many times she promised that, on this occasion, the police didn't care about their drinking, it was clear that she wasn't getting the full picture of what had been going on in the surrounding dorm rooms that night.

So far, it seemed as though the intruder had come in through the window, having scaled the fire escape outside. Maureen had explained to Elliot that she had left the window propped open to help her breathe easier through her stuffy nose. Olivia hated that the girl had been apologetic about that fact, as though she was to blame for being lax about security. CSU had dusted the area for prints but, unsurprisingly, the window frame and fire escape had been touched by many and infrequently cleaned.

"There was another frat party a few buildings over," Frank informed her. "The games were getting pretty wild." He had been helping her gather information from the RAs in various dorms.

She nodded, digesting the information. That meant a new group of students to interview. She was grateful that Cragen had sent over some uniformed officers to help. She hadn't liked the idea of classing what had happened as a sex crime - it made it seem worse somehow - but it was the only way their unit could investigate and there was no denying that breaking into the room of a sleeping student and photographing her could have a sexual element. She downed the last of the coffee and stood from where she had been taking a break perched on a wall outside Maureen's building.

"Thanks. Can you show me the way?" she asked Frank.

* * *

Elliot had only just grown used to his daughter as an adult. He'd slowly come to accept that sometimes she would want to drive rather than getting into the passenger seat and letting her father take control. Just a few weekends ago, he'd come home to find her sitting on the front porch with Kathy as they caught up like friends. It had dawned on him, bit by bit, that the parent-child relationship had changed for good.

So to see her now, curled up in a ball on her childhood bed where Kathy had left her a short while ago, seemed like an unnatural step backwards.

"You need your sleep too," his wife insisted, stroking his arm as she joined him in the dark hallway. "You're exhausted."

He leaned in closer to her, wondering how she was managing to stay so calm and in control. When he and Maureen had arrived back at the house, Kathy had taken over immediately, shepherding them into the kitchen where she had already heated milk to make cocoa. They'd sat quietly around the table, their drinks barely touched but still providing the intended warmth. Then she'd balanced on the edge of her daughter's bed, occasionally stroking her hair in reassurance, until she'd heard her breathing deepen and even out, with no more distress than she'd have experienced waiting for Maureen to fall asleep as a child. Meanwhile, Elliot had paced the yard pressing a worn-out Olivia for answers she didn't yet have. Again.

Why had someone targeted his daughter? There were hundreds of other girls in the area. There had been a number of parties going on and, as he and Maureen had waited for their ride home, he'd seen groups of young women stumbling from building to building in high heels and short skirts. He hated himself for thinking it, and he knew it was hypocritical given what would have said to any one of them had they ended up the victim of a crime, but he couldn't understand why those girls were ignored in favour of terrorising someone who had been tucked away, alseep in her room.

His head was spinning with the day and his fist and jaw throbbed as reminders that the break-in hadn't been the only crisis.

"Come to bed," Kathy whispered. "You'll feel better in the morning."

Despite everything, there was something about the way that she said it which made him believe it could be true. At the very least, closing his eyes would bring an end to the day. With one last glance around Maureen's room, to reassure himself she was safe, he left his daughter and followed his wife.

* * *

Olivia threw herself down on her bed, her body restless as it ached with exhaustion. She had kicked off her boots and tossed her coat in the direction of a chair in the corner of her room, but beyond that she hadn't even bothered undressing. It had been a long day and, given everything which had happened recently, that was saying a lot. Her eyes were heavy but she felt almost too tired to settle down. She longed for the tired calm which had come over her when they were laughing in the bar.

The effects of the beer had long worn off. The shock of the call from Maureen and the passing of several hours had seen to that. But the lack of food and rest, combined with the amount of adrenaline which had circulated her body, left her feeling nauseous and out of sorts. A full night's sleep was what she needed. Her brain and body had to reset to allow her to function properly. For the past few weeks she'd only been managing to partially recharge.

While unsettled by what had happened to Maureen, she knew that the girl was safe and unharmed. With the recently installed deadbolt on her door, and the gun tucked in the top drawer of her nightstand, she could tell herself that she was safe too.

After some time staring at the ceiling her mind began to drift and as she danced between conscious thought and dream she replayed the scenes of the day, watching Elliot starting to relax over drinks and then rushing to his daughter's aid. The lines between reality and imagination blurred and by the time she witnessed his legs blur into a cloud of dust, like a running cartoon character, she knew she was finally asleep.

To begin with, the dream started like all the others, with swirling images and sounds that didn't really make sense. She was in a basement again and it was too dark to see much more than shapes. Muffled voices and incoherent whispers taunted her and she rolled onto her side to get away.

But her change in position just added a new dimension. The lights came on and her eyes focused on the now familiar face looking at her. His expression was the same as the one which had mocked her as she'd apprehended him in the alley. To see him as a real person, rather than a dark spectre, sent a shiver through her body. His breath was hot against her cool skin and his hands rough on her bare arms. For a short time, all her senses came alive and she was certain that this was reality, and the version of the moment where she was lying in her bed was the dream. It took the swirling and spinning to commence again before she was convinced otherwise.

By 4am she had turned on the bedside lamp, unwilling to risk what she might imagine in the shadows in a half wakened state, or what might appear crystal clear if she closed her eyes. As she sat up in bed, sipping a glass of stale water, the dream didn't seem to want to fade. If she concentrated, she was sure she could feel the pressure of his rough fingers on her upper arms as he propped her up, with her wrists bound and her heavy legs unable to kick out. When she blinked she was blinded by a bright white light, blurring out not only West's face but also that of whoever else was in the room with them. In this new, lingering take on the usual scene they weren't alone.


End file.
